We Call Them Wolves
by Eyes of Glass
Summary: In a crowded station, Remus Lupin has a very unpleasant encounter with a man he had always wanted to avoid.


Title: We Call Them Wolves  
Author: Eyes of Glass  
Rating: M  
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. Ratings and reviews would be deeply appreciated.

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There were many places in the world that Remus Lupin preferred to avoid. As he had recently discovered (about half an hour ago to be precise) crowded train stations in the middle of London where one of them. Shifting uncomfortably he tried to avoid being bumped and jostled by the crowd who were quite packed in the tube station. Looking around he could only see a mass of suits, school uniforms and crudely dressed teenage girls.

What certainly wasn't helping was the high glass ceiling above him that acutely reminded him it was almost full moon.

He could already feel an unwelcome tingle at the back of his neck that signalled him that his body was waiting to change. Scratching the back of his neck blinked hard and slowly made his way through the crowd, taking care not let his hand absently wander to his left pocket, where his wand was tightly hidden from the muggle crowd.

Then, a strange and horribly familiar scent stopped him dead.

_No, no, no._

Feeling his throat convulse he took a deep breath and one again inhaled the scent of man he had wanted to spend the rest of his life avoiding. No one around him seemed to notice but his senses, heighted, by the approaching full moon where sharp and he could sense the alpha werewolf in the station with absolute clarity.

He wasn't the only werewolf in the building. He could only pray that Fenrir was alone and not accompanied by his Deatheater "friends".

Taking a deep breath he dived again into the crowd and tried to get further away from the scent of the alpha male. However the scent seemed to get only stronger with each step he took. Was Fenrir following him? Had he noticed him? The thought was a chilling one and he pushed through the crowd with more vigour, taking care not to appear to distressed or afraid.

After a few minutes of struggle and pushing, he managed to free himself from the packed station and breathed the sweet, sharp air of the city night. Taking deep breaths but trying to appear to ragged and looked around to gather his bearings. He could only hope that Greyback hadn't followed him.

The cool wind sent a shiver through his body and sent a cruel reminder of the poor quality of his clothes. Couldn't be helped. Giving in to temptation, he shoved his hand into his pocket to feel the reassuring touch of his wand.

For a few minutes he was stood outside the station panting and attempting to regain his wits and his sense of direction, the smell of another werewolf always addled his senses and made it difficult to concentrate, the scent of an alpha even more so.

After waiting ten minutes he looked up and the illuminated clock above the entrance and nearly hissed when he realised it was almost midnight. His train would be arriving any minute! Risking discovery he entered the train station again and pushed back into the crowd. It would normally be quite unusual for the trains to be so packed at this time but it was very nearly Christmas and many people were going to and from parties and shopping and whatever else muggles did in their spare time.

The great clock in the station struck midnight and he let out a curse. Ignoring the disapproving glares from mothers with young children he slipped out of the crowd and rested against a wall, he had missed his train. Granted apparating would be easier and more efficient but he could hardly do so in such a crowded muggle area. And he knew that as a wizard and rumoured to be a member of the order, he would likely be watched by more unfriendly eyes. He could only pray those eyes didn't belong to his "maker".

Ignoring the cold feel of the wall he took a deep breath and tried to locate the scent of the werewolf. Perhaps he had left? Another inhalation proved him wrong. The alpha was still here and he was closer than Remus would have preferred. He gave an involuntary shudder; a confrontation with a Deatheater was the last thing his needed, least of all this particular one.

And he was getting closer.

By now it would be impossible for Greyback not to have smelled him. Granted Remus' own scent was nowhere near as domineering and powerful as the alpha males but Fenrir had sharper senses than him and would easily detect one he had himself bitten.

As the scent got nearer he shrank into the wall and tried to hide in the shadow of the crowd. Then he saw him.

He looked every inch as menacing and cruel as his wanted poster. He towered over the people in the tube station and most of the people avoided his eyes and quickly got out of his way. His look, naturally aggressive, was sharp and calculating. He was looking for something- or someone.

By now it was far, far too late to hope that Fenrir hadn't noticed his smell and not long before the werewolf would see him. He straightened against the walls but didn't step out of the shadows. He didn't need to.

Then, as if by some cruel force of nature, their eyes met.

For a flat minute, they just stared at each other. On Fenrir's grizzled face was a devious smile that was both victorious and threatening. Remus looked more wary and returned his gaze steadily. He would not show fear to a creature that was all too good at recognizing it.

The people milling around them had somehow faded into the background but Remus was well aware of them and thankful for their presence. Greyback wouldn't try anything here. For all his brutality he was not stupid.

Feeling inclined to show some small resistance to the alpha's crushing presence, he let his hand drift to his shabby coat pocket where his wand lay. He did not take it out but he did not need to. The werewolf across the room tensed and Remus held his breath as the alpha's eyes narrowed. Whether he was a child or a grown man, Greyback would always terrify him. He let none of this show in his face as he gazed down the werewolf.

Then Fenrir's lips parted to reveal quite sharp teeth for a werewolf in human form and he grinned at the wizard in the corner of the room. Remus watched him warily and frowned in confusion when he saw the alpha male's gaze drift form him to the other side of the room. Following the werewolf's eyes carefully he looked to the other end of the room and nearly hissed.

There, gripping the hand of a mother whose concentration was clearly elsewhere was a young girl. A cold feeling of horror filled his stomach as he looked at the child. She couldn't be older than five or six and the way Greyback was looking at her suggested she no more a child to him than a tasty morsel. A dull thud of disgust rose in his throat and he once more locked gazes with the werewolf, the implications clear between.

Greyback gave him a smirk and nodded towards the exit to the station, Remus glared at him with an expression of flat refusal. He had already entered the dragon's cage; he wasn't going to lie in its mouth.

After a second, Remus let his head drop and his hand fell away from his wand pocket in defeat. Greyback was now openly grinning but Remus couldn't bear to look at the Deatheater's sharp teeth. Stepping from the shadows he glowered as much as he dared at the victorious werewolf. Greyback in turn walked towards the younger wizard and smirked as Remus involuntarily pressed back into the station wall.

Fear burned with the humiliated anger that coiled in his stomach. He shouldn't have to face this now, not when he had other things on his agenda. Remus' eyes flicked around and throwing caution to the wind he dived into the crowd, away from the approaching werewolf. The smell of Greyback was filling his lungs and he was resisting bestial urge to shrink like a pup and throw away every dignity as a man. With each stride he took it seemed Greyback only got closer, the thought making him hasten his step.

Now he was in the thick of the crowd, surrounded completely by bodies of various shapes and sizes and he was certain that even if he drew his wand and sent out a spark nobody would notice, their concentration fixated on the timetables flashing on enormous boards around them. He only hoped Greyback wouldn't come to that conclusion and act on it, as was in his brutal nature.

Pushing further through he suddenly felt hot breath on the back of his neck, turning around in alarm he saw nobody, ignoring the strange looks he received from passing muggles he moved on, ignoring the growing tingling in the back of his neck.

Where was Fenrir? He didn't want to betray his nervousness by turning around but the idea of being watched by any Deatheater was an uncomfortable notion. Taking a turn he pushed further through the crowds and tried to block out the irritating Christmas tunes being blasted out from the loudspeakers.

All of a sudden he felt a large hand grabbed his wrist and once again there was hot breath on the back of his neck, now he did shrink, his head filled with the dominant scent coming off the werewolf behind him. He didn't even try to twist out of the grip for fear of attracting the attention of the passing muggles. However every coherent thought flew out of his head in a flash when he felt teeth on the side of his neck.

Immediately he tensed and felt all the blood leave his face. Surely, surely not even Fenrir Greyback would try this here? Even he couldn't be so twisted. The slowly increasing pressure on his neck sickly dissolved that theory.

Beginning to breath quickly he whimpered as the pressure continued to increase, behind him, the Deatheater growled and before Remus could register, he was dragged into a side corridor of the station, out of the way of the milling crowd. Then just as he was about to draw his wand, consequences be damned, Fenrir pushed him against a wall and clamped his sharp teeth on Remus' neck.

Remus immediately shouted in pain and shock and undoubtedly would have been heard had Fenrir's hand not covered his mouth and muffling his cries. His own hands flew up and tried to push the werewolf away but were no use against the older man's strength. Feeling blood beginning to flow from his wound he groaned and pain as Greyback pressed into him. Feeling a sucking sensation on his injury he realised with revulsion that Fenrir was lapping up his blood like a dog and his hands fell limply to his side in defeat.

Greyback recognizing the submission gave a victorious growl and drove Remus further against the wall ignoring the younger man's hiss of pain. Grabbing a fistful of Remus' hair he pulled his head backwards and continued to bite and lick at the wound he had made.

Eventually the pain was too much and Remus cried out as Fenrir finished lapping up the blood from his bite. Immediately the grip on his shoulders was gone and with nothing to support him, Remus fell back and crumbled against the wall, his shirt hanging off his shoulder and the gaping wound on his neck still bleeding profusely.

Greyback stepped back and surveyed Remus with sated satisfaction, a small of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth which he did nothing to clean. Instead he smirked at the shell shocked wizard and stepped out of the corridor and once again into the crowd of people, ignoring the looks of fear and disgust.

Still lying pale faced against the wall in the darkness; Remus Lupin slowly brought up his hand to his neck and after a minute began to arrange his shirt, his hands still shaking. Through the corridor and up at the glass ceiling he could just see the moon, almost full, shining down on him as if it was laughing.

_Well, this was a disturbing fic to write and no mistake. I was inspired by a poem I read recently about creatures of the night and I feel this story outlines Greyback's brutality while underlying Lupin's vulnerability. Ratings and reviews would be appreciated but I'd appreciate it if you could dowse your flames before you send them._

_~Eyes_


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